April 29th

I am a person full of ideas. Sometimes I think I have too many ideas that they actually end up being a freezing mechanism rather then a freeing one. But none the less, I keep coming up with them. Here is the latest.

I work part time at Rattles & Rhymes, a baby furniture and accessories store in Athens, GA. One of the things I have observed over the few months that I have been there is the journey of a new parent. You meet them for the first time and they are excited, glowing; well rested. They are thoughtful in their choices. How much money they have to purchase a crib; how many sheets they will need; what to indulge on (Zucchini or Mud Pie?) and what to be no nonsense about (crib mattress, car seat).

From a retailer's perspective, there is a process you must indulge them in. You could potentially meet them for the first time when they are just coming from that first doctor's appointment where they have just found out they are expecting. Or, they are coming from the doctor's office where they have just found out if they are having a boy or a girl. There is a visit to the store where it is expecting mom with the proud Grandmother, who always wants to be the first one to buy the first item for the baby. The next time you see the expecting mom, she will come in with her best friend. This is the team that usually makes the decisions (best friend could be a girlfriend, sister or mother).

Once mom, with her budding belly, has made up her mind she then is on a quest to convince the husband and parents to also love her choices. Often times the grandparents are paying for a portion or all of the baby's furniture – and often there is a competition between the expecting mom's parents and the in-laws. The expecting mom does some indulging of her own, saying to her husband, 'honey, sit in this glider and tell me if you like it'. Even though everyone in the room knows he better say, 'I love it honey'; 'whatever you want honey', or some variation there of.

Then finally, the expecting family comes to the patient, observant retailer, ready to write up the order. You have to let them go through their own journey to purchase. It is the only way, in my opinion, to ensure that they will be completely happy with the purchase. In this type of retail, I believe you are nothing more then a cheerful resource. If you become too interested in selling and not as interested in happy, well informed expecting parents, then you loose. The whole experience of bringing a new life into the world should be a delicious process from start to finish.(That is just my humble, shop girl opinion.)

Fast forward to the blessed event. The baby is born and the first time you see the new parents is usually when they are coming home from the hospital. This can be the mom and dad; but more often then not it is the new dad with his mom. You have to work to try to remember who they are because they look like they just rolled out of bed, even though they have not slept in days. They are wearing mismatched clothes with odd odors attached. They usually are in desperate need of something to do with breast feeding/pumping. There is no regard for cost. Suddenly the counter is full of breast shields, tubing or even two different kids of breast pumps if new dad has been sent in alone (don't worry, as the retailer, it is our job to talk them off the ledge, we don't send them home with two pumps). There will be a few soft cotton outfits added if Grandma is there and then some item to subtly tell the new mom 'this is what I think you should be doing'.

It is in seeing the customer in this light that gave me an idea. Wouldn't it be great if the expecting mom could register for prepared meals to be delivered to her house the first week she is home with her new baby. Or, have prepared meals available for those glassy eyed husbands and new Grandparents to also pick up with the odd assortment of breast pumping products. Of course they could get that at any restaurant or eatery; but I am talking about having it available at the same place they have to stop anyway.

It wouldn't have to be just available to new parents once the baby is home; but also those weeks before the baby comes when expecting mom's feet and ankles are so swollen she can't possibly stand in the kitchen preparing the family meal. Oh, there could also be a “Craving It” menu for the expecting mom's with those crazy cravings the husband is sent out to get at a moment's notice....see what I mean, the ideas just keep flowing.

So, what do you think? Could a From Pickles to Pumping Catering business be in my future?

April 21st

My first job in a food environment was at the tender age of 13. It was at a place called Green Shutter Tearoom in Tiger, Georgia. The owner was an 84 year old woman who cooked everything on a wood stove. Yes, a wood stove. The restaurant was opened only in the summer, seven days a week. I had to be there at 6:30 in the morning and usually worked until 4:30 in the afternoon. I have forever held the secrets of Maude Fisher's cooking in the lock box that is my heart and mind. How she lured people from Texas to Canada, assuming they were getting farm raised meat and vegys, to come and taste her slow roasted beef tenderloin, 'new' potatoes and ridiculously good butter soaked green beans, will never be revealed by me. But, you could say, at a young age, I learned the reality of working in a restaurant. It has long hours, it is hard, challenging work, and it has its illusions.

To make someone happy ~ a satisfied palette, a full belly and a memory ~ is a tradeoff well worth that journey.

That first restaurant experience was about seeing happy customers through comfort food. Fast forward to when I was 19 and working at Athens Country Club; that experience was all about learning of the finer things in life ~ Beef Wellington, Trout en Papillote, white glove service and Scotch.

So in homage to my roots in good dining; I am attempting Trout en Papillote today...and you can rest assured, there is a secret or two that you won't be able to see or guess at ~ that is the magic of cooking!

I am going to start with a Steelhead Trout, salt and cracked pepper, and capers...

I know, right, it looks like Salmon...does this mean you really never do know what fish product you are getting at the supper market just like The Today Show reported?

At any rate, I am adding these ingredients...which will work whether I am a Salmon or a Trout...

There is lemon slices and a tablespoon of diced tomato, teaspoon of greek olive, chopped; smashed garlic glove and arugula sprigs. I layer the goodies on top of the fish.

 Then, for what ever reason, I wrap it in the parchment paper like it is a burrito. Though, I am quite sure at the Club it was more of some elegant pocket.

I have always worked as a hostess or server once I left Ms Fisher's womb. Trying to recreate the treasures I have served patrons over the years is a challenge and a lot of fun. With that said, I don't remember what the chefs at Athens Country Club put in this papiolltte. I just remember slicing it open for the guests and being fixated on the aroma. You, as I did, can pick whatever ingredients you happen to have available to use with your fish. No matter what, it ends up being a cool presentation! And, because it is steamed in the paper the flavors just come alive like jumping beans.

Once it has baked in a 375 degree oven for 20 minutes, let it rest for a few minutes, then take a good knife and cut along the thick edge of your 'burrito'....

Once it is sliced open you can just sort of let the entree shimmy on out. You will have some lovely juice now too.

The aroma fills the air...

You will love this dish and appreciate how easy it is to do without a) breaking the bank and b) breaking the tradition of the dish. The key I think is picking fresh ingredients and flavors that lend a hand to one another. The fish is lovely and flaky !

Try it, and tell me how it went!

Good Luck and Eat Life Up!

April 14th

Bob's Small Town Grille seems like the perfect place to work if you are happy about food.

So today I am perfecting my It is Thyme to Hire Me Pork Roast and Sweet Potato Risotto.

Where I have never eaten risotto prepared in a restaurant, it is always featured on Chef Gordon Ramsey's programs so I figured I better learn how to cook it. But truth is, I don't really know if I make it correctly since I have never eaten it prepared by anyone else.

I lived in Tennessee a while back and fell in love with the Bell Buckle Cafe. David Letterman sent Bif there to cover the RC Cola and Moonpie Festival the year I lived there; but that is not why I loved this place. I loved it because it was so sophisticated and so small town all at the same time. You could settle in to a comfy seat and order speckled beans, fresh from the garden squash casserole, grilled fish and a glass of wine. Downhome cooking with sophistication. And bonus; there was live music! The coolest thing about the Bell Buckle Cafe is that it is in the middle of nowhere and nothing. It sits in a town with a post office, a few antique stores and a boarding school. The town is one block. That is it. Oh, and there is the annual RC Cola and Moon Pie Festival.

It is similar to what makes Bob's Small Town Grille exciting. It sits in a town with a post office, a bunch of antique stores, a small private collage and a few fast food and meat and three establishments. But Bob's is unique. It lives and breathes in Royston; a tiny town on your way to South Carolina, and it is a must stop at establishment. You can go there and get Salmon BLT's or Mac N Cheese you would sell your first born for, great burgers and lovely daily specials with a nice glass of wine or cool new brew. And, there is live music from time to time as well.

Both restaurants are housed in old, storied buildings with great character. And the staff always make you feel like you have come to their house for dinner.

I want my niece Katie Girl's band play at these places...

...as both establishments are family friendly.

I realize these places are just the kind of place I would like to have one day. I have a lot to learn I know; so I get back to studying....

...and of course, plotting...what small town on the way to somewhere can I land? Maybe somewhere in the Midwest? Or in some sleepy little beach town? We will serve everything, from deviled eggs and creamy brie soup with a seared scallop, to mouthwatering outside-in burgers and creamy fig pasta. Katie Girl will be the house band!

Ok, so that is a little ways off...for now, if you are traveling the small town roads of Georgia or Tennessee, do check out these great culinary finds!!

April 7th

Easter Sunday went like this.

I awoke at 5:00 am because I was worried I wouldn't wake up at 6:00 am when I was supposed to. Mass is at 8:15 and I have nothing to wear and a long drive. When you make the mistake of only attending Mass on Christmas, Easter, weddings and funerals, chances are you are not going to have a closet full of church clothes. So I spend most of the 5-6 o'clock hour mixing and matching in my head.

Mass was lovely; I don't know why I don't go more often. Maybe it is that everyone there is always with their spouse and kids and I don't have either of those so I feel out of place. Which, I know, doesn't have anything to do with why you go to Mass.

After Mass the family is coming out to the 'farm' which consists of two houses, a barn, and a spread of land freckled with Rhode Island Red's and Herefords. I didn't realize they were coming straight from Mass so I divert everyone to the one of the two houses that my mother and her husband live in and away from the one I live in. My nine year old nephew, Wade, is in the car with me and he says, “Aunt Sharyn, I can help you clean your house; do you want one of these?”, and hands me a mini Twizzler from his Easter basket.

He cranks up the vacuum the second he gets in my house. He checks in with me after each room, both to see where he should go next and also to see if I want some Whoppers. I would short change him if I called him a great kid.

I start the potato salad and deviled eggs. It is casual; low key. There is no roast cooking all day, slaving in the kitchen meal. It is a play golf in the front yard;

meander to the creek;

hang out on the front porch kind of cooking day.

These are the days where you can't go wrong.

There is a lushness in family gathering on a special day. It is rich with banter and laughter and wine and food baked, grilled, boiled, and burnt with love.

The fresh country air gives off exhaustion that you crave; like a runner's high. Everyone liking your deviled eggs can do the same.

March 30th

Today I am going to Cafe' au Libris at the Lyndon House Arts Center. It is an opportunity to meet and mingle with local authors. I am particularly interested in my chef crush, Hugh Acheson, of the local restaurants Five & Ten and The National as well as from Bravo's Top Chef fame. He now has a cookbook out...

I have dreams of working in some capacity in the culinary world, so I am excited about this night.

I, as most of us, don't often get the chance to meet famous people we admire. The last time this happened to me I was going to hear John Wooden speak at the Classic Center here in Athens. It is hard to imagine that it was a 92 year old man I was going to see because I bought a new blouse and rushed home to redo my hair from a long day at work. My brother got us the tickets to hear Coach Wooden speak. I remember being irritated with him that he wanted to go out to eat with his family and not get to the Classic Center early like I did; he was not nearly as excited as I was. He did not change shirts from his office attire.

When the event finally got under way I only had minor quibbles about the moment; like why did they make this 92 year old man walk all the way across the stage to get to a seat that was one of those high rise director's chair? If he tumbled forward he would surely break every bone in his body. But other then that, it was an inspiring evening. He was everything you want that 'celebrity' you admire from books and TV to end up being in reality. He was poetic and lovely. He was larger then life and embracing all at the same time. He opened the floor at the end of the evening for audience Q&A and all I wanted to do was ask if he would sign my book(s). But I didn't have the nerve. I was afraid he would tell me I should have bought the $50 ticket that included the book signing, even though I am sure Coach Wooden would never embarrass someone that way.

The Mr. Acheson encounter was a little different and somewhat the same. I had eaten at his restaurant, Five & Ten a few times before ~ it is the kind of place you sort of have to save up for, unless you are REM's Manager or the Million Dollar Club Realtor on all those billboards around town ~ so I was a follower of Hugh the chef for several years. However, when I first started following Hugh the celebrity, he was set to be a Cheftestant on Top Chef Masters. On the first night of competition I posted all over Facebook and texted all my friends to watch and show support. Then, low and behold he was the first contestant kicked off. What! I had just settled in for a long season and right off the bat my chef crush was eliminated. I tuned in the next week and just like some American Idol Twist, Hugh got to return due to another contestant having personal issues that prevented them from competing. Though unlike American Idol, I am unaware if that had anything to do with a neglect to disclose a criminal record or not.

Hugh Acheson is no John Wooden. You definitely love and admire them for different reasons. Wooden never swore. On Top Chef, Acheson was bleeped a lot. Wooden ate the same sandwich for lunch most every day and Acheson makes hummus out of boiled peanuts.

At any rate, to my evening at Cafe' au Libris I am wearing my new Kelly green tunic, my Seven jeans and my trendy flats in case Hugh is short ~ celebrities are always short. I only paid half the power bill so I could afford to buy his cookbook and I plan to make a full meal out of the watercress sandwiches and Cecilia cake bites that will be the 'Cafe' spread for the free evening. I will drink water with lemon; it is a really cool looking cookbook.

When I approach the table with the authors books stacked from end to end there is a long line of library ladies guarding the table. One of them asks me if I am planning to buy one of the books and I say yes. She then hands me a post it note and tells me to write on it what ever I want the author to sign in the book. “What ever I want them to write?” I say, really, they will write what ever I want them to? That seems wrong. “Yes, anything you want them to write,” the lady replies.

I momentarily plot... “To Sharyn, You're Hired, See you in the Kitchen, Love Hugh”. This is my chance. That would be funny right? Memorable! I keep thinking, this is your chance Sharyn. Be bold. Get creative. Have another watercress sandwich, think, think.

I am in line. The gentleman in front of me is conversational with Hugh. My palms are sweating. They are talking about a hard working farmer they both know. I know no one and suddenly can't even remember that I grew up on a farm. It is my turn. Mr Acheson stands to shake my sweaty hand, great! I say something incoherent and he looks at the sticky note attached to his book and he says, “Ah, with a Y instead of an O, OK.” And there it want, my moment, poof. All I could manage to write with confidence on the post it note was To Sharyn...

It ends up with a “To Sharyn, Eat Well, Be Swell, Hugh Acheson” and I could complain and say that is kind of nerdy, 'be swell', what the hell? But, I only have myself to blame. Maybe he really did need my help with what to write after all; I shouldn't have made fun of the library ladies and the post it notes.

He hands the signed book back and I say thank you and walk away. I feel stupid in my new tunic; but the flats it turns out were a good call.

Soon, all the authors are summoned to the atrium. This is where they will each speak for 10 minutes.

In the end, Hugh ends up being a pretty classy celebrity. He speaks of community and his role in it and I like him as a person. I walk to my car with my autographed book still sporting the sad post it note and I find myself wishing I'd have been a bolder fan...again.